I Found You in the Darkness
by perpetual-estrangement
Summary: Emma needs a shoulder to cry on. Enter Hook. ONESHOT. First kiss scenario.


**- Just got an idea in my head that I couldn't shake. I really need a scene like this and since I doubt I'll get it, I wrote one! :D I didn't plan for this to be a first kiss thing, that just happened because I just can't flippin' help myself! Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! -Dani**

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Another night in Neverland.

_This shit is getting old._

Emma lost count of the days it had been since they came to the place, looking for Henry. All she had was a stupid blank map from the little punk, Peter Pan, that still wasn't doing anything but sitting there being completely helpless. Besides that, the only thing she had was shit for luck. There was no sign of her son anywhere. The bodies of Greg and Tamara were found a few days prior, confirming that Henry was most definitely with the Lost Boys. Peter Pan's taunting had already pretty much told them that, however. No one knew what the map was about or the answer to the little bastard's riddle, not even Hook.

At the thought of the pirate, her eyes shifted towards his general direction. The moon refused to appear this night, steeping them in complete darkness, and it was impossible to see more than a foot in front of your face, but she knew where everyone was in theory. Even the jungle seemed afraid to stir in the oppressive darkness and Emma let the black cloak her like a heavy blanket as she sat and churned her thoughts and worries. The journey had awakened far too many memories, whether it be Henry's birth, her chained down as she brought him into the world and being absolutely unable to even see her baby for fear that she'd never be able to let him go, her constant state of loneliness, (Even now that she had her family, it was still there at times.) or just general fear and loss of hope that they would ever find Henry in the mess of trees and vines, that maybe they'd be too late.

The darkness was safe, so Emma eventually lowered her head to her knees and let herself cry. It was too much. She was leading and putting on a strong face, keeping the many arguments in check, calling the shots, setting the course, delegating duties, all while inside she was completely wrecked with her own anxieties and emotions. With the heavy night she could let it out quietly, at least, and then no one would know, no one could judge or criticize, no one would realize just how precarious her hold on sanity and control was. Alone was how she braved the world, why should this moment be any different?

A warm hand resting on her forearm made her jump.

"Emma lass, it's only me," Hook whispered somewhere near her ear.

She froze, embarrassed that _he_ of all the damn people around her, heard her crying. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep," she whispered back, keeping her head down. It was too dark for her tears and red eyes to show anyways, but she still felt safer in the position.

"Like bloody hell you are," he growled low. "Emma, do you think I haven't noticed? You're barely hanging on, about to fall apart any moment."

"I'm-"

"If you say 'fine', I will throttle you. You've taken everything on those strong shoulders of yours, love, but you are not indestructible."

Emma huffed, pulling her head up to look at him. She could barely make out his outline. "I'm not weak."

He sighed. "I am well aware, Emma, but lass, would you just let someone _hold _you? Let someone give you just a little bit of comfort?"

She snorted. "What, like you?" She hadn't meant to sound mean but her stress had been making that part of her come out way too often lately.

Hook responded to her tone with a cruel and short laugh, his voice still barely a whisper in the night, but laced with impatience and a bit of anger. "I'm fairly certain I know how distasteful you'd find that arrangement, but you have two parents here with you that love you dearly. This inhuman strength of yours has its limits. You need to be held and there is _nothing_ wrong with that, you proud woman."

With that, he was gone back to his tent, a good and unsubtle distance from the rest of the group, leaving Emma stunned with his words and his sudden absence. Even griping at her, the man made her feel better. What was that all about? More importantly, who the hell did he think he was?

_Oh, just the man who's helping you find your son, who's supported your decisions the whole way, offering suggestions when he knew something they didn't. He's done all of this for no payment and, so far, no sign of personal gain, and he's the only person who's ever looked at you and has seen you, no matter how much you hate it. He's just all of that._

She sighed heavily. Hook, was right. She needed comfort. She wanted it. She just never had been in a position to get it. Emma turned her head, trying to make out her parents sleeping in their tent but coming up with nothing. She could wake them, cash in on all the lost time, make up for all the snapping at them she had done, but something was tugging her back Hook's direction. He was already awake and he already knew she was upset, so at least she'd just be embarrassed around one person for her tears. Maybe…

_No! What are you thinking?_

She shook the temptation away. Nothing good could come from seeking out Hook for comfort, but she really couldn't see what exactly the _bad_ would be. Plus, she had sort of insulted him so she should probably apologize. That flimsy excuse got her moving and carefully, she padded in the direction of his tent, the faint outline eventually confirming her sense of direction. Hook butted his tent against a solid tree and was sitting with his back against it, his legs stretched out in front of him. It took her only half a second to realize that he'd been up keeping watch and that's why he heard her cry.

She could see him whip his head her direction as she approached and Emma froze, not knowing if she'd be welcome, but he quickly waved her over and she complied immediately, unsure why she was suddenly trembling. Following his silent direction, Emma sat herself between his spread legs, her own limbs over one of his, and hesitantly wrapped her arms around his waist and curled into his chest. She could hear his heart beating steadily and his arms delayed in coming around her as they found his leather coat and pulled it over them, but with that task done, the well-muscled arms squeezed her tightly under the coat and enveloped her in warmth.

Her tears were back immediately as the unfamiliar, but very welcome, position overwhelmed her and mixed with all the worries and fears she was mulling over when she was alone. A silent sob sent a spasm through her body and she froze from instinct, still harboring the urge to protect herself even with the solid and protecting arms around her.

"Let it out, love," he said, ducking to speak by her ear. His hand maneuvered his jacket so that the heavy leather blocked her face from the rest of the camp, helping to muffle the noise. Once done, his fingers found their way to her hair, weaving into the strands. Feeling safer than she had felt her entire life, the floodgates broke and she cried out all her frustrations and hurt, burying her face in the pirate's chest to keep the noise down.

Emma wasn't sure how long she cried. It certainly felt like forever, but no matter how highly inconvenient it no doubt was, Hook never rushed her or gave any indication that he wanted to do anything but hold her. His fingers soothed by continually threading through her hair, the arm around her rubbed her back in the smallest of motions, and more than once, his lips kissed her hair, never touching skin because he _was_ a gentleman. One violent wave of tears threatened to wake everyone, causing Emma bit down on the edge of the leather vest he wore, no doubt marking the thing, but he didn't push her away. He simply pulled her tighter and rode the storm with her.

When she finally began to calm, Emma's embarrassment kicked back in and a fierce battle raged inside her head. What was the proper thing to do? Say thanks and leave, or stay? If she was being completely honest with herself, the last thing she wanted to do was move out of his arms. Besides, he was making no move to let her. Little by little she eased her grip on him, allowing her hands to travel up his back, curious and unable to stop herself. His lips moved to brush the top of her head again but she was suddenly having none of that. She needed a little bit more, so against her better judgment, she tilted her head back just in time for his lips to meet her forehead.

It was like someone had electrocuted them with the spark and flash of heat that radiated from where he kissed her and both she and Killian froze and tried to meet eyes in the darkness. It dawned on her that her brain called him by his real name, sending her into a minor panic, but his thumb was brushing away the tears lingering on her face, distracting her from her fight or flight. She could barely see his face but she could read the hesitation in his muscles, and eventually, temptation won out, much to her surprised delight. Killian lowered his lips to her face, kissing her cheek softly, lingering there. Emma was seriously beginning to enjoy this comforting thing but he pulled back abruptly and all too soon for her liking.

"I'm sorry, Emma," he whispered, beginning to pull his arms from her.

Emma refused to let go, however, despite all the warning bells in her head. "Don't be," she breathed shyly against his collarbone before kicking herself for sounding so damn pleased with the touch. Even if she _was_, that was no excuse to let him know it. His ego didn't need any help.

Killian, surprisingly, made no jokes, no movement, nothing but stillness, like he was weighing all the consequences but after a moment, he gave in, moving his hand back to her face and drawing her up to his mouth, placing languid and sweet kisses over her cheeks, her brows, and her eyelids. Unable to stay unaffected by the attention, Emma sighed his name. He stopped right away and drew back, making her mind rapidly fly to all the things she might have done wrong until it hit her like a hammer.

It wasn't the moniker she whispered in the dark.

It was suddenly too hot, they were too close, the position was simultaneously uncomfortable and amazing. Emma moved to get away but Killian snapped into action, yanking her back into a tight embrace and making her heart work harder.

"Emma," he murmured, the sound husky and making her entire body tingle, "You can kill me later, lass. I promise."

And with that, their lips met and Emma thought the contact might be the death of her. Killian was gentle while somehow still managing to be demanding with the solid pressure of his lips on hers. Not that she had ever imagined the scenario, but _gentle_ was the last thing she expected from the man, but then again, _gentle_ was a perfect word for everything he had done that night. At that, the reminder of how he had given her a shoulder, or in this case, a chest to cry on, and strong arms to soothe her, knowing exactly what she needed and when, it all came crashing down around her and she knew that she _would_ probably kill him later, just not for this.

Killian was maintaining the chasteness of the kiss, but Emma forced his hand, or his tongue, as the case may be, as she slipped hers lightly against his lips, invitation on the table. A small moan left his throat from somewhere deep in his chest and the sound shot sparks to every inch of her body, as did his tongue when it immediately slipped inside her welcoming mouth, kissing her soundly and lazily. Emma held on to him, returning his kiss with equal heat. He was good, though, dammit all to hell and back, and she briefly hoped that he wasn't disappointed with what he was getting. The small, soft noises he made, however, combined with the racing of his heart which she could feel beneath her palm, let her know she must have been doing something right. The taste of him was better than anything she could have hoped for: The darkness of the rum he drank combined with the bright, sweet fruit he had found for them earlier in the day. Her eyes were closed, but she was pretty sure they were rolling back into her head as she focused on the taste.

Killian's mouth opened wider, taking her with him, and his tongue did a thing. A 'Holy Shit' thing. A 'Where in the hell did you learn that' thing. A 'Were you raised in a damn brothel' thing. The moan that left Emma was the loudest noise she'd made all night and she practically attacked him, bouncing the back of his head off the tree behind him. The grunt he gave let her know it hurt and she pulled back at once.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, reaching up to rub offended part of his skull and getting distracted by just how soft his hair was.

Killian's lips rested on her cheek as he spoke. "Never apologize for the things you do in my lap, love."

Emma managed to chuckle at that and leaned into his touch, though her mind was screaming at her. She ignored it and swallowed hard. "Can I stay here for a bit?"

"Lass, you can stay much longer than that, if you wish it."

Flitting past the concealed meaning she heard there, Emma snuggled herself against him, resting her head on his shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest. It alternated between racing and softly thudding, and Emma would have paid good money to know what he was thinking to make the thing behave like that. The rhythm, erratic as it was, eventually lured her into sleep. The warmth of his circling arms didn't hurt either.


End file.
